Where were you in 1991?

July 23rd, 1990

Call came at six thirty this morning and I couldn’t wait to check out of the dank, depressing room, where I spent too many hours alone.

Flight time was only four hours and I knew Millie was already here, so the minute I got to my room, I rang her. Had we been in (mostly) any other location, we’d have gone out but this isn’t the safest place so we ordered cakes on room service and began what turned into a marathon gab fest.

Tonight (still in my room) Millie threw a pillow at me when I asked her to make the caricature she did of me, look thinner.
“Stop being ridiculous,” she said. “You are not fat.”
“I’m not being…”
“Yes you are! Do you think hunky Dave would fancy you if you were fat?”
“It’s David.”
“Ooh, touché,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “Day vid.”
“Don’t be snarky,” I said, tossing the pillow at her.
“Ouch!” she yelled, when it hit her on the head.
“That’ll teach you.”
“Stop changing the subject and answer the question!”
“Sorry, what was your question again?”
“You’re impossible!”
“I learned from the best,” I said trying to wink, which made her laugh because I can’t wink.
“Should we get more cakes?” She asked, with a perfect wink. “Or do you want to go out with the crew?”
“I’m not really in the mood for socializing but we can go if you want.”
“Nah, I’m not either. I want to draw more. So, cakes it is?”
“Cakes it is! And maybe a bit of pasta.”`